


Late, but Just on Time

by TakingFlight48



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BIRTHDAY FIC FOR THE ONE AND ONLY CNOVA, Belated Birthday Surpise, Draco on a motorcycle, Draco with reading glasses, Draco's POV, Established Relationship, F/M, Hermione is 32, Hermione/Draco in love, Long Term Relationship, Low key birthday celebration, Smut...smut...smut, Surprises that I wont reveal here, sorrynotsorry, tropes thrown in this fic like toppings in a salad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28972143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakingFlight48/pseuds/TakingFlight48
Summary: All Draco wanted to do was lavish his witch in love as they celebrated her return to British soil and her belated birthday, ending with a world shifting surprise.All Hermione wanted was to enjoy the day with Draco, bathe in their intimacy and end the night with a surprise of her own.Leave it to Draco to concede without complaint and still manage to make Hermione feel like the goddess she was....or the one where Draco spoils Hermione rotten on her belated birthday.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63





	Late, but Just on Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cnova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnova/gifts).



> This story is in honor of a beautiful friend I have made in this fandom, [CNova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnova). Happy (belated) birthday C. I am so thankful for your friendship and constant discourse that only makes me a better person. 
> 
> Go check her out and please enjoy this story that both excited and terrified me as I created it...because it had to be perfect <3
> 
> Thank you to [Kiwi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwi05622/works) for her alpha/cheerleading and the beautiful moodboard. 
> 
> Enjoy ☮ ✌

* * *

**Sunday, 27 December 2011**

“Draco Lucius, sit down!” 

I ignored her. My mind was whirring, thoughts slamming one into another as I attempted to make sense of the changes I now had to make. My legs were moving just as fast as my mind, following a single path repeatedly—mantel, wall, mantel, wall, mantel, wall. And I couldn’t stop until strong arms impeded my current lap and pushed me back into my seat. Looking up at Theo, he held my shoulders tight until my leg stopped bouncing, letting me go when I finally sighed deeply into the leather beneath me. 

With a nod, my bemused friend sat back down, poured us both a glass of whatever drink he was experimenting with this week and leaned forward, forcing me to grasp the glass. 

“I just...I don’t quite understand what she said. She was so eager to see and celebrate her completion of the program!” It was as if every explanation, every attempt they had made so far couldn’t pierce through my incredulity. No matter how much the quieter, logical part of my mind sneered at my dramatics.

“Drink,” Theo barked. Pansy slapped his arm sharply at his tone, but rather than continue to fight their need to calm me, I finally gave in. 

“Yeah, alright,” I sighed again before downing the liquid in one go, hoping it would drown out my panic. 

“Fucking Merlin, Draco. Take it easy!” Pansy attempted to admonish, covering her amused smirk with the back of her hand. 

“Don’t listen to her, Draco. Bloke needs it. He had big plans for this celebration, has to re-write the whole thing now, doesn’t he? Another Draco?” Theo grinned mischievously, and like a switch was flipped I immediately felt the altered calming draught he had added to the whiskey. 

“You fucking tosser. I hope you tested this batch of potions on yourself first,” I grumbled before setting the glass far away from me. “Tell me again—” I started.

“Well, Her—” 

“Pansy. Pansy, tell me again.” I interrupted Theo, knowing his retelling would likely send me back into the irrational pacing I was in just moments before, calming draught be damned. 

Biting her lip, Pansy set her wine glass down without a sound before leaning in. “You are right. She was eager to celebrate before she parsed out it was more birthday than homecoming we would be celebrating. She doesn’t want us to do anything extravagant. She just wants to enjoy the day with you, thinks it's sweet we insist on celebrating her birthday even months after the fact but won’t enjoy anything big. She promised me a full day at the spa for complying—without any complaints from her—so you better not bollocks this up Draco.”

I ran my fingers through my hair for the thousandth time—unconcerned that it was a mess, strands falling in my face—then dropped my hand back into my lap. 

“So the ballroom—”

“Cancelled,” Pansy confirmed, cutting me off. 

“How about the trip—”

“Postponed.” Theo clipped. 

“The caterers?” I try weakly.

“Paid and date changed for a Saint Valentine's gala I get to throw next month.” Pansy shrugged. 

“The commissioned—” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Theo chuckled, eyeing me as if I had lost the plot— _I suppose I had._

“She never said she didn’t want any gifts,” Theo mused. 

Pansy chuckled, “Witch after my own heart, that one.”

I tilted my head back in defeat, acceptance, thought? I wasn’t sure. What I did know, however, was that all the grand romantic gestures— _including fireworks_ —I had planned were pointless if she wanted relaxed and non-celebratory. 

Rolling my neck dramatically to the side, I watched the pair through narrowed eyes and groaned out my immaturity. 

“So, then what do I—no, no. I’ll figure it out, ignore me. Saturday’s brunch is still on, correct?”

“Of course. Hermione will just have to put up with some fawning; no one ever called _me_ a saint after all, and I cannot entirely neglect the opportunity for birthday festivities. Besides, if your purpose for all this hasn’t changed, Sunday will be for a different type of celebration.” Pansy took a long sip of her wine, grin still in place before she got up and dragged Theo with her. 

“If you’re certain?” I tried one more time. Surely they had gotten something wrong, misunderstood her desires. My girlfriend had to have known that I would want to lavish her with everything for her belated birthday. 

“Why would I lie about your girlfriend's desires to be a total bore on her 32nd birthday bonanza? She’s the oldest one amongst us. I should have been able to live vicariously through her as I suffered through 31. But no, first I am forced to miss the actual date while she was in Thailand, and now this. Let’s go, Theo, leave this man to his gaping. We have things to not plan.” 

Pansy walked away, her hands gesticulating around her as she monologued. She dragged Theo by the tie and left me to rework my plans for Hermione. My original schedule had been perfect, but now, now I had to go ‘back to the cauldron’ as they say. 

Summoning untainted scotch from my wet bar, I poured myself some of the rich blend. Swirling it lightly, I couldn’t shake how odd it was that she wouldn’t want to spend the day celebrating grandly. Hermione wasn’t the type of woman to simply accept quiet, not after her long time away after the war and her exhausting, suffocating relationships. Weasley had rarely been a man of detail, and proper attention and the other Spanish bloke had been more physical than romantic. 

For fucks sakes I had reconnected with her at a club in Monaco. Watching her dance and grind against my first girlfriend—Potter watching them both lasciviously—had stirred something primitive in me, something that until this week, I had been trying to pinpoint. And Merlin, I was ready to tell her what I had discovered. Sitting on this knowledge for even a week had me anxious. I wanted to give her the answers to questions that I glimpsed behind those inquisitive chocolate eyes the moments she would stare at me for long minutes. Long minutes wherein she was reviewing all the facts, figures, magical explanations, and knowledge and discarding them over and over since none of those answers fit _quite right_ with what we felt. 

We never spoke of it, no. We didn’t need to. It was most poignant in moments right before release. Those were the moments when it felt as if something _other_ was entwining around us, binding us closer, reminding both of us that we fit. 

Slapping my hands on my legs, I got up. I knew just what to do for Hermione’s belated birthday. I loved the witch, and in an effort to give her the calm she so desired, I had to make a few fire calls. 

* * *

**Tuesday, 5 January 2012**

I ran my hands along her arms, over her shoulders, and attempted to drag fingers through her scalp—stuttering as her curls threw themselves in my path. She hummed at my ministrations, a cheesy smile playing on my lips as I enjoyed this intimacy for a few moments longer. 

“Didn’t you say you were leaving for some secretive mission?” Hermione laughed, page turning as she devoured her novel of choice for the morning. 

“Yes, but you’re so soft,” I murmured against the crown of her head before dropping a lingering kiss. 

“Hmmm, if you keep doing that I won’t let you leave.” She tilted her head back into my chest, looking up at me with a small grin. “Matter of fact, I’d rather you just stay in, undress down to your pants, and let you spend the day pleasuring me.”

She slipped out of my hands, setting down her book and turned to kneel on her chair. Bringing her face closer to mine, her hands trailed up my arms, playing with the collar of my deep grey shirt. 

“Since you insist that I am the birthday girl.” She finished slowly. 

Her eyes dropped down to where her fingers played with my shirt’s top buttons before Hermione sucked in her bottom lip and looked up through her lashes. She knew I was a sucker for the coy act, no matter how long we’d been together. 

“You are the birthday lady,” I confirmed softly, willing my heart to slow as she ran her hands over my pecs, intentionally teasing her nails over my nipples. 

“Then, I demand you cancel all these mysterious plans and stay.” Hermione moved forward before I could respond. Warm lips landed against the skin just above my collar, placing soft, breathy kisses up my neck, over my adam’s apple, and then back down. 

“I demand you fulfil my every need, starting by taking this top off and letting me explore.” 

I groaned, in part an unavoidable reaction to her words and attention and in part because I had to stop her before her small hands got any lower than my belt. 

“My love, I want nothing more. But I think if you give me a chance you’ll see why leaving you, leaving this, for even a short time is worth it.” I managed to choke out, my thumb running under her pouted lower lip before leaving a soft kiss to her furrowed brow. 

Sitting back on her haunches, she huffed, arms crossing over her chest for only a moment before she dropped them with another huff. 

“Alright, fine. I know. I’m not leaving this room, however, until you return.” I traced my eyes heatedly over the growing sliver of skin as her robe slowly fell off her right shoulder. 

She readjusted it with a soft growl, “If you can’t stay, you can’t see either.”

A surprised chuckle escaped me at her petulant reaction—it was endearing. “Fair. You know I would love to see you in this, or less, all day. However, what if I was returning with all our friends and family, and here you sit, in a robe, nothing underneath, hair freshly shagged?”

She froze, eyes darting between mine. Hermione tried to suss out the depth of truth in my taunting before she threw her head back and climbed off the chair. I gave away nothing, employing my Occlumency and throwing nonsensical thoughts and ideas at her probing magic as she took calculated steps backwards towards the double doors that led into our bedroom. Wagging a finger at me, she spoke one final time before disappearing. 

“Draco Malfoy, I cannot tell if you are serious or not. At the risk of looking foolish, I am going to make myself presentable. But then! Then I am sitting in this room and reading all three books I bought myself yesterday.”

As our door clicked shut, I gave myself a mental pat on the back; step one was underway, and now it was up to me to get the rest of her birthday celebrations underway. 

  
  


I warded the room from sounds and smells. Not our bedroom because Hermione would be suspicious if she couldn’t hear the familiar sounds of our flat, but of the dining room. 

And I was glad the idea came to me as the ridiculous contraption she convinced me to buy started wailing from the depths of my pocket. Flicking my wrist a final time at the lunches before me, the dining table was ready for my witch. Her white leather chair hosted her favourite dish at the head of the table, the Chile Verde Plato from Gilberts el Indio—a Muggle Mexican restaurant she insisted was better than the authentic platter. I didn’t pretend to understand her, even after taking her to Mexico City to prove her wrong—but I didn’t have to. 

Pulling the phone from my pocket, I flipped it open and pressed the green button before answering the one woman smart enough to call rather than knock. 

“We are here. Open the damn door; it’s cold.” Pansy shouted, never quite getting the hang of a mobile phone call, no matter how many times we reminded her of its similarities to fire calls. 

“Yes, dear,” I murmured instead of arguing, slowly making my way towards the front door and very quietly prying it open and ushering in our friends. 

Pansy levitated what looked like a gallon of sangria and Luna had a cake box in hand, hopefully, full of those fruit tarts Hermione died over. Ginny, Mili, and Angelina carried in bags of gifts from all our friends. 

“You get an hour and a half. That’s it. This is a casual, friendly lunch where you just happen to have cake and presents…” I trailed off, barely believing myself as I flicked away Pansy’s condescending pat to my shoulder. 

“Clock starts the moment she comes in!” I whispered sharply before lifting the charms on the room and making my way to my lady’s hidden lair. 

Imagining the roll of her eyes and annoyed huff, I knocked until her exasperated, “Really, Draco?”, pushed through the wood. 

Clicking open the door, I leaned against the doorframe and drank in her tight jeans and deep green top. My favourite top was cut low, and as she leaned forward to continue reading, it dipped out enough for me to get a lovely view of her formidable chest. 

“Join me in the dining room?” 

Her eyes finally rose off the pages of her newest adventure, drinking me in too. “Did you finish your errands? You were gone for quite some time.” Hermione got up, carefully placing a bound peacock feather father had gifted her yesterday between her pages, and lovingly placed the book atop her teetering pile. 

“Missed you,” she murmured, and I swooped forward and pulled her towards me by her empty belt loops, dropping a series of scattered kisses to her lips. 

“Not as much as I did. Come with me.” I let her lips go, tugging her arm and smiling as she laughed at my childish behaviour. 

However, her laughter abated as we got closer to the all-consuming scent of her favourite dishes, her eyes narrowing on me as I glanced innocently back at her. 

Before she could demand an explanation, I pulled her into the room where her closest girlfriends were all sitting waiting patiently for her arrival. 

“This is not a party. You simply need to eat, and they need to eat, and therefore you are all eating here. You have an hour and a half with them before I steal you back,” I murmured. I squeezed Hermione tightly to me before leaving a long kiss against her hairline, narrowing my eyes at the ladies over her head before slowly backing out. 

Before I could turn entirely and ward the room to grant them some semblance of privacy, Hermione lunged at me. Her knees locked around my hips, my hands flying naturally to her arse, taking advantage to grip her hard to 'steady us'. 

“Thank you, love,” she whispered, before her lips moved _slowly, sensually, thankfully_ against my own. I gently placed her down before it got too heated, urging her to go back to the table. 

“Anything for you, Granger,” I said, winking at the shiver her surname produced as I finally turned to leave. 

Locking myself in my office, I set the alarm on my flip phone—the only other application I ever used it for. Slipping on my glasses, I set to work putting my thoughts and dreams into written form, a task I had insisted on doing alone. 

  
  


I squeezed the crumbled paper tighter in my fist, hoping to silence its mocking sound before tossing it, joining the sea of drafts that littered the bin and the floor surrounding it. Staring forlornly at my fireplace once again, I fought the urge to call in reinforcements. Shite at this rate I would almost call on Potter himself. 

I knew I was running out of time. My mobile lying innocently beside my quill was eager to play its silly tone, keen to remind me of what little I had accomplished the last hour and twenty minutes. Everything I wrote and every attempt I had made to put what I needed to say into words just continued to fall short. Hermione spent her free time falling headfirst into some of the best literary works. How was I supposed to compete with Austen, Goldman, and even that contemporary Sparks? 

Sighing deeply, I vanished the evidence of my failed attempts before dropping my thin-framed glasses back to my desk and massaging my temples. _It’s fine._ They always say the words come when you need them most. 

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tucked my glasses into my top drawer before stretching and making my way back to the witches. I took my time, moving slowly towards the dining room and stopped to lean against the hallway wall, hidden by the shadows of the windowless space. My witch was lit up, head was thrown back and then forward as she laughed at something Red said. She settled against Millie who was laughing just as hard. And then there was Pansy, one leg crossed over the other, face relaxed and shaking her head at the raucous laughter as she sipped on her glass filled to the rim with sangria. 

Luna was cutting another piece of tart out and placing it before Hermione without asking. But my gaze darted back to my witch as she began to pull her perfectly curled tresses into a high pony, fanning her face, and I greedily took in the newly exposed skin of her neck. I swelled slightly in pride at a freshly formed love bite peeking just under her hairline. Our early morning had been full of slow, sensual lovemaking when I woke her before the sun, merlin-bent on reminding her just how much of a goddess she was, especially on her birthday. 

It had ended in two very fulfilling rounds before I cleaned us up, and we fell back into a deep sleep. As if sensing me, even shrouded in darkness as I was, she turned slightly sending me a soft smile. 

The sense of always knowing when the other was close had almost been more chilling than how quickly our deep affections had developed. When we first ventured past friendship, we had expected slow dates, loads of conversations to overcome, really overcome the past, and the need for time. Unlike the arduous time and energy most couples went through, Hermione and I understood each other quickly. It was almost as if our very souls fluttered in anticipation of seeing the other, being with the other. 

Patting my back jean pocket—barely feeling the paper I had carried around all day—I reminded myself that we had always been hyper-aware of the other, even as far back as first year. 

_‘Draco,’_ I heard resonate in my mind. My attention snapped back to Hermione, following the hand that idly played with her ponytail. I almost forgot it had been my name with her voice that had brought me back to the present. 

_‘Draco, why are you hiding? Come sit with me.’_ Furrowing my brow, I watched as she chuckled to nothing and realised she was stretching her Legilimency skills. This had been something that had not come easily to her, a frustration she groaned about until I offered to tutor her in the subject so long ago. 

_‘Still another 5 minutes before I can take away their fun. Then, then I am whisking you away.’_ I replied, throwing my voice much clearer into her mind, a reminder she still had much to learn. 

I watched her still at my words, watched the way she pushed her neck into her hand and readjusted in her seat. It may be January but the day couldn’t be sunnier, the weather more perfect for taking her to our favoured summer destination. 

My phone vibrated against my groin, confirming the hour and a half was up. I could tell Hermione was antsy, from excitement or trepidation I couldn't tell. But I had been careful to heed her request to our friends, nothing grand, nothing in excess. 

Hermione had just gotten back after being away for months, and her days, once she returned, would be getting longer at the office. And for the last few weeks, she had been vacillating between exhaustion and an almost unnatural energy for all things, myself included. 

I wasn’t complaining; my job was the antithesis of hers. Hermione strongly felt every win, loss and concession in the cases she took before the Wizengamot. Whereas, I was simply thankful to have a reputation not wholly tarnished by my youth. Jerking off the wall, I smiled at how she was already shifting to make room for me and made my presence in the room known immediately. 

“A little bird by the name of Ronald told me I ruined some grand week-long plans with banquet caterers and fancy dresses. I'm sorry for that. You ladies know just how much I love a good celebration. But my birthday’s in September and having it now, even if you all mean well, just seemed so incredibly pretentious.”

I pulled up a chair beside hers and pulled her in intimately once I'd gotten comfortable. I ignored the gleam in her eye that demanded an explanation, knowing she would fish for more details later. 

“Weasley was just upset that he no longer had free food to look forward to.” 

Pansy batted my comment away before taking back control of the conversation I had interrupted. 

Arching a brow at Hermione, Pansy teased her further. “Well if you hadn’t been participating in such an extensive legal program in Thailand, and Draco hadn’t been the only one permitted to visit on specified days, then maybe we would have celebrated in September. But now that you are back home and have the week to yourself, we wanted to make it grand.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes back at Pansy, making an odd movement with her eyes and head I couldn't quite catch at this angle. 

Pansy simply laughed her off before downing her beverage. 

“Salazar, we get it, don’t give me that look, you ungrateful wench. You know my parties are fantastic.”

Before Hermione or I could reply further, Pansy was already up, flouncing through the kitchen archway, dishes and cups floating behind her. As she disposed of trash and prepared to clean up, she looked back, eyeing us both shrewdly. 

“You love birds may go. Enjoy the rest of your day; we’ll clean up like the good little house elves we are and see ourselves out. But _please_ , if you need anything, want to chat, or want to celebrate late at night, our floo’s are open. Au revoir.”

I could have killed my friend as I watched Hermione’s mind slowly turn her rather odd dismissal over. However, Pansy made a big show of leading the rest of the witches into our kitchen, leaving Hermione and me together amongst the carnage of the luncheon. 

“Have fun?” I asked, my nose trailing from temple to ear, never tiring of the way she naturally leaned into my caresses. 

“Mmmm, yes. Thank you. It was nice seeing a contained group of our favourites. I missed the boys, but I suppose I needed some decent girl time. I’ve been so busy, so neglectful of everyone but you.” 

Hermione moved out of my arms as she spoke, getting up and straddling me, knees barely fitting on the chair with my broader build. Grunting as she landed heavily into me, my hands cupped her jean covered arse without hesitation. I tilted my head back to read her expression. 

She licked her top lip before grinding into me, her tongue hiding away as her teeth scraped over her bottom lip. Doing it again, we groaned as the rough fabric of our jeans added friction to the escalating movement. This had become more frequent in the past couple of weeks; her heat for me reaching an all-time high I was uninterested in dousing. I let her lead to take her pleasure from me. Running my fingers up her spine, I lightly snapped the strap of her bra against her back, wishing I could simply remove it before leaning forward to bring my lips to the strained column of her neck. I felt the moan ripple up her throat before I heard it above me as her hands moved from the back of the dining chair and into my hair, ruffling up the brushed back locks. 

Before I could lay her out before me and feast as she rightfully deserved, a sharp cough sounded to our left. 

“Merlin, you two are insatiable. Go, finish this later. Make sure she gets it rough tonight Drake. Bird looks like she needs it, poor thing. No more of that sweet and worshipful shite you Malfoy’s do.” Pansy tutted before rapping a soup spoon—why she had it in hand, I didn’t want to know—against the table. 

“Out!”

Laughing against Hermione’s throat, I nodded once, pulled back and helped Hermione stand, laughing harder as Hermione sent Pansy a two-finger salute before stomping out into the front hall. 

“Leather, love.” I gestured when she reached for her peacoat, slowly slipping my arms into my leather jacket. I ushered her out the front door before she could refuse or demanded an explanation. 

“Draco, what did you do?” 

“Well, Blaise and I took a road trip you remember? The first week of your training in August?”

“Yes, which we will have to repeat.”

“Of course we will. After Blaise spent a few days carting us around, we rented a bike for me, and I learned to ride it the rest of the trip. Just two wild, young, and free blokes on their motorcycles. I loved it so much we are now the proud owners of a motorcycle!” I knew she could scarcely resist my emotional expressions—as uncommon as they were—so I made sure I was vibrating with joy as I ushered forth the absolute thrill riding gave me. 

My face smoothed out as she rolled her eyes at me, knowing she wouldn't put up a fight this time. Walking towards my bike—the only motorcycle parked along the pavement with its body shining in the January sun—she wagged a finger at me. 

"You’re lucky I can see how happy this makes you. Muggle or Wizard, all men are the same.”

I passed her in three easy strides, pulling out our helmets from the extended storage space and swung my leg over the bike, arm extending out toward her with her helmet. However, Hermione was rooted to the ground when I looked up, her hand blocking the sun from her eyes as she stared at me, mouth slightly agape. My arm dropped, her helmet held loosely in my fingers as I smirked at Hermione’s thoughts, thoughts which were practically screaming at me. 

_“Fuck you look like a five-course meal on that, Draco.”_

Hermione didn’t notice how loudly her lust seeped into me, before physically shaking herself and moving so I could adjust the helmet on her head. I smiled at the design—it was black like mine, but hers had two thin red and gold lines around the edges, ending in a small, elegant H.J. on the side. 

“You better not kill me, Malfoy. I am too young, have worked too hard—” 

I cut off her nervous rambling with a light pat to the helmet. “Love you too much to put you in harm's way, love. Even by my own hands.”

“Well, the helmet does fit perfectly.”

“Was made for your exact measurements, even took your hair into consideration.”

She smacked my shoulder as she slowly settled behind me, her thighs hugging mine, her arms wrapping around me as her fingers linked in front of my lower abdomen. Her helmet pushed against mine as she got comfortable, but I ignored it. Having her here, in my arms as I took her on a trip, felt right. 

I wanted to kick myself for having kept out this detail of my trip with Blaise. At first, I had skimmed over the travel arrangements, eager to hold onto something that had impacted me so profoundly. Riding through Italy—nothing but the Mediterranean winds around us, gravel or pavement under our tires, and beautiful landscapes everywhere we travelled—had been everything last summer. 

I had also been nervous knowing that her closest childhood friend passed when he was 26 while on a motorcycle. Her lack of hesitancy almost six years later, however, reminded me once again how amazing the witch placing her trust in my hands was. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I just…”

“Mmm, I get it. Thank you for telling me now, though.” Hermione squeezed me tightly for a moment before her helmet moved against my back, her voice closer. 

“So what’s the plan, are you really taking us to The Cliffs?” I squeezed Hermione back at her hopeful tone. 

“The Cliffs, that abandoned lighthouse we’ve always talked about visiting, and then home for a dinner that I will cook for you. All you have to do is entertain me with your wit and charm and then promise to join me for a delicious dessert a la nude.”

The purr of the engine rippled in time with her laughs as I finally kicked the stand up and moved into the light traffic. I was eager to give her an afternoon of total detachment from our real lives. She wanted to relax, and I thought this would do more to reach that goal than staying home. Her laughter finally subsided, and she burrowed closer to me, helmet secure between my shoulder blades, her breathing pressing against my back in soft waves. I smiled, hoping I was right and sped up as I make my way out of London, heading south towards her favoured South English Cliffs. 

  
  


The afternoon had been perfect. Hermione had been at ease, glowing brighter than the winter sun and scarcely keeping her hands off me. When we arrived at the lighthouse she had always watched from The Cliffs, she had pushed herself to the top, just standing together in awe of the view miles long in all directions. Once she’d had her fill with that, she demanded her fill of me, undoing my trousers, fishing me out and proceeding to give me an exceptional blow job until I screamed her name out into the cosmos. 

I had eagerly returned the favour, my fingers moving expertly into and around her as I forced her gaze outward. I had Hermione describing the scenery before us—the sea lapping at the shore, the slowly dripping sun, and the various boats sliding through the waves in the distance—until the only thing she could stutter were _‘Yes’_ and _‘Draco’_. 

Now, as Hermione licked the tomato sauce off her chips—my attempt at cooking having failed—I was feeling my carefully constructed calm from the day fade away. The pixies slamming against my rib cage were enough to put me off any more of the meal. As the meal progressed, the swarm had steadily grown to the point where I was certain Hermione could see the light sheen of sweat gathering at my temple. 

Taking a slow, deep inhale, I willed myself to calm. Nothing that I told her tonight would change anything. The ancient book would simply give her an understanding that correctly answered questions rather than created conflict. 

The clinking of her knife as she cut her fish up like a proper lady, brought me back to the present moment. “I cannot possibly eat a bite more, Draco,” she hummed, even as she brought another slice of fish, followed by a chip slathered in ketchup, to her lips. 

“Take all the time you need, lioness.”

Getting up and placing a soft kiss to her proffered cheek, I gathered ‘dessert’ and slunk into the lounge turned living space where her favoured rug sat, soft, warm, and ready to witness debauchery tonight. 

I hurried when I heard Hermione rising from her seat and setting off to find where I had gone. Just in time, I had two glasses of champagne—fresh dark cherries sitting at the bottom of each chute—various fruits and spreads, and myself in nothing but pants, stretched out on the rug. 

“Draco, wher...Oh! Ohhhhh,” she repeated, each oh longer than the last, stopping when her toes sunk into the deep white rug. 

“Dessert and libations, my queen.” 

Her smile was infectious, my cheeks straining as I made a fool of myself below her. Her legs buckled slightly as I ran my foot up the back of her calf, encouraging her forward. 

“Draco, I am so full, I couldn’t possibly—”

“You are dessert, Hermione.”

“Oh.” 

“Why don’t you get comfortable or change if you want to and I’ll be here, waiting, anticipating…”

“No, no.” Hermione rushed to shimmy out of her jeans, hopping on one foot as she attempted to rip it off the other. Dropping carefully to her knees before me, she quickly worked on unbuttoning the flowy top she had donned for the day, fingers slipping in her rushed attempts. Sitting up, I swatted her hands away. 

“Let me,” I murmured, pushing her freshly loosened curls behind her shoulders, running my finger down her neck, thumb tracing her clavicle before popping her top button through. My fingers worked efficiently, my eyes never leaving hers as my thumb pushed and my fingers pulled, pinky lingering along the newly exposed skin as I slowly peeled her free. 

Her abdomen clenched under my feather-light touch as I undid the final button. My fingers traced around to her back unsnapped Hermione’s bra just as efficiently and worked the straps off her shoulders. My eyes finally left hers to watch the way the soft fabric sagged and exposed her dusty brown nipples to the cooled air around us. My hands blindly pushed her shirt and bra off her wrists to flutter to the ground around her. My knuckles rubbed over the top of her breasts, just avoiding her areolas as she breathed in deeply. Glancing back up, I smirked as Hermione’s eyes followed the teasing track of my fingers. Her breath hitched every time I got just close enough, but no other sound or demand escaped her softly parted lips. 

She was holding back from asking me for more, I could feel it. The tension, the passion that translated to us without regard for our wants or desires, wasn’t new. This same magical connection that shouted I was made for Hermione made to love and pleasure her, understand and feel her, and her for me, had always existed between us. 

My knuckles finally caressed her slightly puckered nipples before my palms splayed open and cupped her breasts, wanting to feel as they further hardened under my attention. I glanced at the dessert tray, pausing to decide if I would start with the marshmallow sauce first. And if so would my first taste of the night be the plump strawberries, fresh blueberries, or the sweet, slightly tart blackberries off her skin. 

Either way, I was ready to trace marshmallow sauce over the canvas before me; eager to mix in rich reds, deep shades of wine and mulberry until I’d had my fill. Letting go of her breasts—watching them bounce without my steady hold—I reached for the sticky sweetness, but Hermione’s gentle fingers wrapped around my wrist. 

“Lay down,” she said softly, and although my brows furrowed, I listened, knowing only good could come from her gentle commands. Stretching my legs back out and resting on my elbows, she shimmied out of her knickers—exposing herself to me once again. The fire behind me illuminated the light sheen of moisture gathering at the apex of her thighs. Like a niffler to gold, I shifted my weight onto my right arm, eager to feel what she was presenting to me.

“You’re already so wet,” I murmured, surprise colouring my words even though my logical mind had known this to be true. I dragged my first knuckle over her outer folds once before parting them and making a path through the moisture to Hermione’s entrance. I circled her opening, eyes affixed to the light coating I was gathering along my questing fingertips and decided to abandon my plans. Reverently, I brought my fingers to my mouth, eager for a taste of the bitter goodness this goddess supplied me. There was a sweeter note tonight, but I paid it no mind; how many times had Hermione commented on a shift of flavour in my release—affected by whatever indulgences we partook in that week. 

Her lips followed the path my fingers had taken, face almost desperate to taste herself against my tongue. We exhaled into each other as her lips touched mine. She kissed me sweetly, eyes opened and watched me as she further sealed her lips over mine. This was another moment where we could feel more than simple lust, more than simple love grown from time spent together. There was always something _else_. But I wouldn’t ruin the moment by explaining it to her now even as my eyes darted to my discarded jeans—inadvertently breaking the moment. 

And it was if every slow thrust, every lingering touch, every moment of lovemaking I had drowned her in today burst a damn of fierce need within her. 

A fiendfyre sparked to life under her skin. Her soft touches turned sharper, her fingers dragging up my chest, nails claiming their place within my hair. Hermione’s mouth opened, teeth nipping sharply against my closed ones, urging me to open for her, demanding more, demanding reciprocated action. 

It was when I finally complied, my mouth opened to hers, my teeth nipping her full bottom lip and demanding more of her upper that the fiendfyre spread to her legs. She threw her right over me, straddling me and Hermione’s hips ignited into action. She rotated against me, the movement dragging her bare sex over my clenching abs, shifting until she found friction against the tops of my pants. 

And like a muggle rubber band snapping into place, the fire licking at her every movement transferred to me. My left hand rushed to crookedly drag my pants down my hips, knees shifting side to side until I could whisk my pants off. I needed to be sure I could spread my legs and seat her properly above my throbbing erection. 

Hermione squealed when she felt me hard and thick below her and didn't wait a moment longer. I hissed as the warmth, and eager grip of her small hand took hold of me. We were lost in each other, and I hadn’t even entered her yet. She could scarcely pump me at this angle, but she tried, once twice, and then drug my head through her folds. My grip on her hips tightened; she was wetter than she had been moments before. 

Hermione threw her head back as she circled her clit with the head of my cock. Her moans splattered against the living room walls, her chest heaving, and I eagerly alternated my teeth and tongue around the presented nipples. 

However, I was ready to take control because I needed more. 

My head fell back, harsh breath leaving me as Hermione read my mind and finally lowered herself onto me. Our bodies shuddered as the fiendfyre blazed from where we joined through every nerve ending in my body. Nirvana was fueling the beating of my heart, and somewhere far away, I heard a deep groan wrapping around us, coupled with feminine whines. 

And then she was moving, snapping me out of my haze and propelling my hips into hers. It was a frenzy. Her hands were gripping my shoulder muscles, leaning over me, curls obscuring the rest of the room, surrounding us in a haven all our own. Her sex clenched tighter around me in this position, as if the extra work her legs were putting into her rise and fall forced her walls to clench tighter, appreciate it more. 

I was being drowned in her, my thrusts pushing soul-deep grunts from her, and when I saw her start to falter, her speed slowing, I finally took back control. I planned to give her exactly what she had been pushing for. Sitting up, my hands slid up her thighs and gripped her arse before I released each globe and rejoined with a loud crack of my palms on each cheek. She threw her head back, pleading for _‘again’_ , and my hands held her arse tighter, before slapping her just as hard. She hadn’t stopped moving as I dropped my knees to either side of us, spreading her wider and making sure I took on all her weight. And fuck she bore down rougher in this position. 

I twitched inside her at the added assault around my cock, my balls slowly pulling up. Her sex was so wet, so tight, but I shook my head, needing to focus on getting her there first, making sure she crashed around me before I did. 

I pictured Lovegood’s pygmy puffs, Potter’s stupid face, and the slew of first-quarter meetings I had to attend next week, as I continued to lift and drop her onto my cock. Closing my eyes, I exhaled as my pleasure subsided enough to continue catering to her. 

Hermione’s nails burrowed into my skin to maintain her balance as she huffed out her pleasure, the heat of her imminent orgasm seeping from her pores. I leaned forward, tongue darting out to trace the sweat trickling down her neck, over her clavicle and fighting its way down the shifts of her deep, soulful breaths. 

“You’re so beautiful. So, so perfect. Perfect for me,” I whispered, before sucking Hermione’s skin into my mouth. We moaned at the change of position. Her clit moved against me, and she straightened with a gasp as she realised she could feel more when she rolled her pelvis into mine. Her nails dragged up my neck, cupped my jaw on either side and demanded my lips meet hers in a sea of sighs, moans, and pleas. 

Her legs tightened around my hips as the pulsing of her core increased around my cock. Hermione’s arousal dripped out of her; so much sweet moisture between us only helping me slip in and out of her as her muscles demanded I stay put. They knew not what they wanted as I fucked her over me. 

She babbled nonsense against my lips, a symphony of ‘please, harder, yes, oh Draco’s’ as her forehead rested against mine. My mouth dropped open, mirroring hers as her arms pulled me closer, panting with half-lidded eyes and silently begging me to go faster. My arms sped up, responding to the urgency shooting through her. 

Then time stopped, and I saw it before she did. A white light collided with every particle of her being as if magic itself welcomed this moment, and our connection snapped shut as Hermione jumped off, dove in, and came around me. 

She continued to come undone, her legs twitching erratically, hands splayed flat against my back as her walls pulsed, gripped, begged me to come with her, to let it take me too, but I resisted. And with a sharp inhale her entire body seems to collapse into itself, her forehead slipping off mine, cheek resting against my shoulder, breath panting across my neck. 

I bit down hard on her neck, marking her like she loved but also because I couldn’t come yet. I needed her skin to yield, to force the blood back just enough to pry one more soul screaming moment out of her. I needed another. _‘Please’_ , I demanded of the cosmos, _‘one more’_. 

Carefully, I cradled her against me and slowly turned us. Her hair was soaked from our exertions, light quakes still sparking off around my length, and at that moment, she was glorious. 

“Fuck.” I shook my head, watching the firelight glistening off the natural dew along her skin, the brightness to her eyes, the flush slowly receding off her chest.

“You are a goddess, glowing in pleasure.”

She whined as I slipped out of her while adjusting her hips above a nearby throw pillow I had summoned. Grinning softly down at her Hermione’s shaky arm attempted to rise, tried to caress my cheek before ultimately dropping back down, as a breathy laugh left her. I dropped a kiss to the corner of her lips in understanding before letting my lips and breath trail over the back of her ear, her jaw, her pulse point, one nipple, and then the other. I alternated sucking in the salty, sweet skin of her breasts, feasting on the hardened nipples, biting then soothing, sucking then flicking and grinned like a schoolboy once again as she slowly began to squirm and pant under me. 

“Please Draco, please just wreck me. I need it hard tonight, no more worship.” I looked down at her sex, licking my lips at the mess we made together, and I wanted to heed her request to fuck her, and myself, to completion against this shag rug. 

“Just a taste,” I murmured instead. My voice was low, husky, needy and I moved quickly to swipe my tongue, flat and firm, up Hermione’s centre, pressing firmly against her clit, not moving, just applying a nonsensical pattern of pressure. 

She’s fucking delicious. Not as sweet as a decadent dessert or as salty as an appetiser, but just right. I flicked the flat of my tongue over and around her clit, dragged it down to her pulsing entrance, circling, entering, gathering and sucking my way around her lips. Her hands found purchase in my hair, her legs closing in around my ears, dangerously close to suffocating me, and I wish she would. 

“So incredibly perfect,” I murmured against her clit. 

“Yes, please, there,” she cried louder, nails digging into my scalp, legs clamping tightly around my head. 

But this wasn’t how I wanted her to break around me, not tonight. And it seemed the magnificent witch had the same idea. Hermione dragged my head off of her, sweaty hands trying to pull me up her body. 

Her mouth opened, words slowly making their way up her throat but I cut them off, lining myself up and slamming into her as I threw her leg over my elbow. Whatever words she had meant to speak turned into a loud, long ‘ah’.

Her entire body folded forward into me and then slammed back down, back arching and hands attempting to grip the shaggy white strands of rug surrounding her curls. Her pleasure spurred me on, the fluttering of her walls demanding I snap my hips harder into her. 

“Fuck, yes,” Hermione grit out between thrusts, and I desire shot through me at the death grip she had on the rug. 

“You like that?” I hissed, rolling my hips on each thrust forward, skin slapping skin and biting my lip as she rocked her head from side to side in ecstasy. 

“You like my thick cock slamming into you?” Hermione’s back arched again at my words and the power behind my hips. 

“I’m going to fuck you across this room, dragging this rug to the wall and leaving an imprint of us dripping across the wooden floor. Wanna make sure you never forget the feel of me, the length of me, the ridges of me.” 

My breath was coming out in hard pants, lips curling to drive her over the edge, miles into the air before she finally fell spectacularly around me once again. Her walls held a death grip over my cock every time I thrust out, but I was stronger than her. I pulled out, hands around her knee and her hip as I rolled against her with abandon. Hermione tried to speak, words stuttering over grunts, under keens, and around groans, but I knew what she wanted to say. She would never forget the feel of me, just like I could never consider a reality where I didn’t realise how perfectly she wrapped around me, how each ridge of mine slots against hers so precisely like she was made just for me. 

So focused on giving her the speed, the roughness she demanded, my eyes following the bounce of her tits with each movement, I didn’t realise I was unravelling until it was too late. I ripped my hand away from her hip and slammed it over her clit in a desperation I could scarcely control. My hips were losing their tempo as my arse squeezed in direct opposition to my fucking brain and forcing me to I grit my teeth, anything to delay my peak for a second longer. 

“Come for me, Hermione. Come now.”

That was all it took. 

“Draco,” she screamed. The moment my lower abdomen seized and I relinquished control to my orgasm, Hermione’s body jerked too, first forward then back. Her nipples rose high, a blush coursing through her, trying to match the orgasms tearing through us and pebbling her areolas. I had to pull my gaze away from her exquisite chest so I could memorise the crease of her brow, the ‘o’ of her mouth, the sweat rolling down her temple. My balls pulsed my release deep into her, sweat slickened skin sliding against the rug below us as I whispered her name over and over. 

“Fuck,” I chuckled, before collapsing at her side, preparing for impact and realising too late that the minx had thrown a cushioning charm on the rug. 

“Yeah,” Hermione responded, before lacing her fingers with mine, our chests rising and falling as we came down from the high of our coupling. 

We laid there, fingers interlaced, minds relaxed and empty as we fully touched back down to earth.

“Do you want some champagne?” I asked when our breathing grew steadier, my limbs not so weighted. 

Reaching over for the glasses, her soft hand stopped me. 

“Draco, we need to talk.” She says, instead of answering my questioning glance. My heart dropped, her tone so serious, so concerned. Has this week been a goodbye? All the shagging, eating all my ruined meals, the extra cuddling, willingly staying in bed with me longer than the chimes of her alarm? 

She sits up, bringing her knees up with her, ankles crossed in front of her and body language asking for my full attention. 

“I need to talk to you about something too. Normally, I would say ladies first, but I’ve been carrying this around all week. And I promise it could impact whatever you have to say to me, too.”

Her brows furrowed at the phrasing of my request but I ignored it or now, reaching over to my trousers and pulling out two items, hiding one behind me discreetly before handing her a small book. 

“I know we’ve had questions, questions about our ‘connection’ and why our relationship just seems more intense than others. I know we’ll play it off as ‘that fine line between love and hate’, but we’ve always thought it was something else, something more profound, even if we never spoke of it.” Having reached for the dessert platter as I rushed through my explanation, Hermione nodded and nibbled on a strawberry as she flipped through the short volume. 

“As you know, there’s very little written about rare magic. Ancient magic that seemingly dies out with time would do that, I suppose.” I was momentarily distracted as her tongue darted out to collect the stray drops of strawberry coating her bottom lip. 

Clearing my throat, I continued. “I believe this is the answer we’ve been seeking. This magic was more common before we began to use wands, long before magicals moved to accept that the magic within needed a concentrated outlet to work, to thrive. I am not surprised, not truly, my magic sings to yours, I always know when you’re near, and with you, I feel complete, or at least more at ease than with any other. So I think we are—”

“Soulmates.” Hermione finished for me. 

I simply nodded, letting her soak in the knowledge that I had unearthed, thanks in large part to my father. It was rare, rarer that we would even find each other, but we had. And we could have lost each other so many times, so many different instances, but we hadn’t. And somehow, somehow we had chosen friendship over continued animosity even with all the years I treated her less than the lint on my robes. 

“Draco,” I tore my eyes away from her hands, not having realised she had closed the book once more and moved to kneel before me. She was crying, my thumb automatically brushing away one errant tear after another as I cupped her face.

“Hermione, what is it?”

“Something happened with my potions. It seems Meredith took my potions, and without thinking, I took my monthly birth control—you know the deep blue one—at the start of last month after she had already left.” She was shaking against my gentle hold, eyes darting down before meeting my own again. 

I was confused. I had expected Hermione to debate or ask me a slew of questions regarding Soulmate magic, what it meant, how it pertained to us, what that painted for our future moving forward. But instead, she was hyper-focused and seemingly upset over switched potions from her American friend that had left the program early. 

“Meredith doesn’t take birth control, Draco. It was a shade lighter than my own and very clearly her minty migraine potion.”

“Hermione, I can send for potions first thing tomorrow, my love. Don’t worry.”

Instead of being filled with immediate relief, however, she rolled her eyes at me before huffing out a breath, hands wrapping lightly around my wrists. “No, I won’t need the potion for another eight months at least, now!”

“Oh.” I was even more confused. I had just told her we were soulmates. Just shared something that had made my entire self snap into place. And she was crying over something she had sorted on her own? 

“That’s great then,” I started slowly. “But why are you crying?”

She groaned and gripped my wrists tightly then. “Draco Malfoy, could you be any more oblivious right now! I don’t need a birth control potion any longer because I have the most permanent form of birth control for at least the next eight months. I am pregnant. We are having a baby.”

Everything froze. All I could hear were the last five words repeated over and over again. The hidden gift behind me virtually glowing with excitement, and I felt equal parts thrilled and ill at the concept of this brilliant woman being laden with my child so early on in our relationship. 

“I’m so sorry. I know you didn’t want kids yet. I would have waited. I was willing to wait…”

Placing a finger over my protesting lips, she smiled brightly. “I want it. I want to do this with you, build a life, a family, a home with you. With little padding feet waking us up at inopportune moments and your mother and father spoiling them rotten. I want all of that, and if it means starting sooner than we planned, well Draco...this book says we are meant to be.” 

It was my turn to groan as I lightly kissed the fingers over my lips. 

“Merlin, can you be any more insufferable? I have been agonising for days, weeks even, on how to say this. On how to put into words just what you mean to me when I would give you this gift.” 

Reaching behind me, I procured the green, velvet ring box. Letting my thumb run over the Malfoy House Crest and gathering courage before meeting her startled gaze. 

“Hermione Jean. I don’t want anything in this life if I cannot have you by my side, step by step. If I could spend the rest of my days reminding you of your import, lavishing you with my ‘old school romance’ as you call it, and giving you mind-blowing sex I would. But more than that, I too want to build a home, a family, a future with you. I know our professional paths will weave in and out of each other, but I want to know that when I come home, I come home to my wife Hermione Malfoy, not Head Researcher Hermione Malfoy. I want to wake up with you in my arms and go to sleep with your hair suffocating me. Will you do this undeserving sod the pleasure of marrying me? Of promising yourself to me and me to you, for all time?”

I finally clicked open the box, the silver band shining brightly back at her, but before she moved to examine it, she looked right at me. 

“Hermione Granger.”

“What?” The confusion was evident in my voice. 

“Your wife, Hermione Granger.”

“Hermione Malfoy-Granger?”

“Draco Granger,” she deadpanned, brow raised, lips pursed but she will not win this argument. 

“Hermione Granger-Malfoy.” I served back, straightening up and preparing for further battle. 

“Right well, we’ll work on that.”

And then the radiance I had hoped for, the widening of her eyes, the sharp intake of breath I had imagined, came. The ring was goblin forged from family heirlooms that were previously cursed for witches of her background, stripped down to their natural form and remade into something beautiful. They were transformed just as she had done with me. 

It was a small otter holding a beautiful blue opal in the centre, hundreds of glittering diamonds making up its fur, and black onyx for the eyes and nose. I knew she would later chastise me for the significant amount of galleons this had cost, but she was in awe for now. 

“So, what do you say?” 

Just like earlier in the day, I had but a moment to brace myself as she lunged at me, kissing my eyes, my nose, my forehead, my temple, and my chin. 

“Yes,” she spoke against my lips, placing kisses from tip to tip. “Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes.”

I wrapped my arms carefully around her, not forgetting for one second that I would be a father soon, and held her. We laid there for a while longer, speaking of all the plans I originally had had for today, the grandiose gestures I had wanted before formally getting down on one knee. 

And as we settled into bed, her back against my chest, I rested my hand over her flat stomach, gently gliding my palm over her in a decidedly non-lustful manner. 

“A father,” I whispered. Hermione laced her fingers with mine, squeezing gently.

“Mmmm, the best sort I’ll make sure of it.” Hermione immediately eased the bubbling fear that had been slowly taking hold of me. With a silent plea to Merlin that she was right, we drifted off to sleep after a long day of celebrating her birthday four months late, but just on time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Any errors you find are mine as Grammarly was my only beta. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and again HAPPY BELATED C. LOVE YOU xoxo
> 
> Please leave love in words or kudos as they motivate and uplift. 
> 
> ॐ


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